Anthology of Irish VersePadraic Colum Boni and Liveright, 1922 - Всего страниц: 361 |
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An Anthology of Irish Verse: The Poetry of Ireland from Mythological Times ... Padraic Colum Просмотр фрагмента - 1948 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Aghadoe Amen Banba banks of Erne beauty beneath birds blood blue Bogac Bán boys brave breast bright Bruadar Bunclody Christ cold cried Dark Rosaleen darling dead dear death DOUGLAS HYDE Draherin O Machree dream earth Eileen aroon ELEANOR HULL EMILY LAWLESS ETHNA CARBERY eyes fair Fardiad fire FRANCIS LEDWIDGE Gaelic glen Glinn gold golden gone green grey grief hand head hear heart heaven hill Hurroo Ireland Irish Irish poetry JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN Kincora King kiss knew ye Lament land leave light lonely Lugh maid maidens moon mountain mourn ne'er never night o'er ochone poem poet Rapparees road thro round Says the Shan Shan Van Vocht shining sigh singing sleep song sorrow soul sweet T. W. ROLLESTON thee There's Thomas MacDonagh thou Translated Twas waters wave white witch wild winding banks young
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 242 - We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed, And smooth'd down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow. Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Стр. 150 - Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men ; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather!
Стр. 242 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Стр. 168 - I've heard bells tolling Old Adrian's Mole in, Their thunder rolling From the Vatican, And cymbals glorious Swinging uproarious In the gorgeous turrets Of Notre Dame But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber, Pealing solemnly...
Стр. 292 - At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye; And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the sky...
Стр. 270 - All day long, in unrest, To and fro do I move, The very soul within my breast Is wasted for you, love! The heart in my bosom faints To think of you, my Queen, My life of life, my saint of saints, My dark Rosaleen!
Стр. 293 - neath the curtain of translucent dew, Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus, with the host of heaven, came ; And lo ! creation widened in man's view.
Стр. 57 - Steals up from her seat, longs to go — and yet lingers ; A frightened glance turns to her drowsy grandmother, Puts one foot on the stool, spins the wheel with the other. Lazily, easily, swings now the wheel round ; Slowly and lowly is heard now the reel's sound. Noiseless and light to the lattice above her The maid steps — then leaps to the arms of her lover. Slower — and slower — and slower the wheel swings; Lower — and lower — and lower the reel rings. Ere the reel and the wheel stop...
Стр. 111 - Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks to me, Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me.
Стр. 168 - On this I ponder Where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee, With thy bells of Shandon That sound so grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.